Forgive me
by Reagan
Summary: Face says good-bye, can Hannibal handle it?


Title: Forgive  
  
Author: Reagan  
  
Rating: R  
  
Summary: Face's good-bye, can Hannibal handle it?  
  
Warnings: Death of main character? Cursing and threats of violence. If this bothers you give my story a pass.  
  
Disclaimer: Cannell and company own the A-Team. Unfortunately that means I can't keep Face and Hannibal. There's some emotional angst but they'll be returned unharmed, relatively anyway. I wish I was making a profit but since I'm not please don't sue. I'm not worth the bother.  
  
Feedback: Love it, please leave some if you've got a moment.  
  
See Author's Notes at the bottom for more information.  
  
Title, inspiration, and excerpted lyrics are from The Normals cd Better Than This, Forgive  
  
How can you see me as I really am and still call me pure?  
  
I am lukewarm, I am icy  
  
I'm everything but what I believe  
  
I'm everything but sure  
  
Father, forgive me, I do know what I've done  
  
Father, believe me, I hate what I've become  
  
Father, forgive me, I do know what I've done  
  
Father, don't leave me, just hold your broken son  
  
...  
  
Everyone I know is breaking my heart  
  
and everyone begins with me  
  
a lonely people in a dirty place.  
  
I'm as messed up as I can be  
  
I'm slinking through the shadows and standing in the light  
  
I'm tired of being who I'm not.  
  
Father forgive me.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Dear Hannibal,  
  
I can imagine how angry you are right now and I hope this letter will go some way toward explaining my actions. Hopefully you'll be able to forgive me, if not now, then someday. I guess if you're reading this I'm gone. I wish we could've had one last good-bye. After fourteen years we deserved that but life's always been a real bitch and this letter will have to do. You deserve so much more and I'm not even there for you to yell at. I'm sorry. I probably should have said that in the beginning. You'll never know how sorry I am for walking out like this.  
  
You used to take great delight in the fact that I could never con you, unlike all those other people over the years. Who knew that I'd pull my greatest scam on you? I couldn't believe that you never questioned me. You took me at my word and I betrayed that trust. I knew this was a set up from the beginning but they were looking for me and I wasn't going to allow you to put yourself in the middle of my problem. I can picture the vein in your forehead throbbing at the idea of confronting Wilson all on my own but this is my problem. He had nothing to do with you and I know that he wouldn't hesitate to use the team to hurt me. I couldn't let him do that so I made sure you guys had no clue. I can hear your lecture about what threatens one of us threatens the team but I couldn't take the chance this time. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you, BA, or Murdock because of my past.  
  
I don't have much time but I need to say thank you. It's completely inadequate, but it's all I have to give on this piece of paper. I know I was a smart ass bastard when we first met. I'm still astounded that you saw something worthwhile in me. Despite my best efforts to aggravate you enough to cut me loose, you held on. You were the first person besides Father Maghill to see me as more than a scamming con-artist. No matter what I did you always came and rescued my sorry ass. I used to wonder why now I just accept it as one of those facts of life, like gravity.  
  
I've never said this to you. I should have; it's another in the long list of mistakes I've made. It's too little, too late, but these words are all I have left to give. Maybe you see a little of yourself in me, that's the only reasonable explanation I've ever been able to elucidate. Regardless though, you took me on and never let go. I could never have said this to you before, but now my emotional hangups seem stupid and inconsequential. I love you Hannibal. I used to dream, wish and pray when I was a kid that I'd be reunited with my father and we'd live happily ever after, or some such crap. As I grew older I knew that would never happen but I realized no matter who he is he'd never be you and that's the most disappointingly bitter thing of all. I'd give anything for you...  
  
Anyway, now that I've finally said the words I want more than anything to see your face as you read this. I don't know if that's what you intended or the role you've envisioned but no son had a better father. I just hope I've made you even half as proud.  
  
No matter what happens you aren't to blame. I know you're beating yourself up but I made my own choices. You aren't responsible so don't let your misplace guilt eat you up. If I don't see you again take care of yourself. Be happy, that's all I've ever wanted for you.  
  
Forgive me Dad.  
  
Your son always,  
  
Tem  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Hannibal had to put the letter back down lest he crumple it. It was the last thing he'd gotten from Face. It had arrived via mail along with a ledger and notebook outlining the team's finances.  
  
God why did he do this? John thought. I never got to say anything. He just walked out and all I get is this fucking letter. Dammit kid how could you do this to me? To us. Did you think we'd just move on and get over you? Like we didn't fucking care what happened to you. Did you honestly not expect me to track down Wilson and rip his goddamn heart out for taking you from me?  
  
Why didn't I say something? How did you not know how I felt? Why didn't I tell you that I loved you too. That no man would be more proud to call you son than I. What the hell am I supposed to do with this? He waved his arm at the letter as though it were a vile creation. You should have trusted me. We could have taken care of Wilson. You're sorry. Is that supposed to matter now that you're gone? You're sorry. Hannibal yelled, turning to punch a hole in the wall. It didn't help. Face was gone and he never got to say anything. Sorry wouldn't bring him back. Sorry wouldn't heal the gaping hole in his life.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Author's Note: Consider this like part one of a series of vignettes. I don't know when the rest will come. I've got a couple, read twelve, different irons already in the fire, but I didn't want to leave this to taunt me from my hard drive. And I figured some of you would appreciate it just as it is no matter how long it takes to write the rest. Who is Wilson? What's Hannibal going to do? Is Face really dead and what happened to prompt him to know to write this letter in the first place. There will be more to come...someday. 


End file.
